


Fever Dream

by Anatui



Series: Fever Dream [1]
Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Coming Untouched, Daydreaming, Developing Relationship, Dream Sex, Friends to Lovers, Heartbeats, Jogress Bonds, M/M, Mind Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Shameless Smut, Soul Bond, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:00:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24394648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anatui/pseuds/Anatui
Summary: Daisuke had had plenty of wet dreams as an early teen, and yeah, a few of them may have featured his absolutely gorgeous best friend—his laughter, his shimmering shoulder-length hair, his slender fingers and pink lips curled into that sweet smile.But nothing had ever felt quite this realistic.Nothing had ever felt like Ken was really touching him before.ORDaisuke and Ken have been bonded since their first Jogress evolution, but things have gotten far more complex (and interesting) with age. Like the fact that they can feel each other's touch.
Relationships: Ichijouji Ken/Motomiya Daisuke | Davis Motomiya
Series: Fever Dream [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073231
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50
Collections: Ana's 2020 Writing Challenge, Daiken Discord Server, Daiken Kinkmeme Challenge





	Fever Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cHarley_Quinn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cHarley_Quinn/gifts).



> This was written for a [prompt](https://daiken-kink-meme.dreamwidth.org/791.html?thread=21271#cmt21271) on the [Daiken Kink Meme](https://daiken-kink-meme.dreamwidth.org/), though I'd been toying with the idea for a while.
> 
> Frankly, after all the intense UST I'm writing in [One Month](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22591732), I really just needed to write some goddamn smut. That's what this is.
> 
> As far as timeline, Daisuke and Ken are in their final year of high school at this point. I never decided a specific time of year or anything, so they could be either 17 or 18 years old.

It started with a dream.

Daisuke had had plenty of wet dreams as an early teen, and yeah, a few of them may have featured his absolutely gorgeous best friend—his laughter, his shimmering shoulder-length hair, his slender fingers and pink lips curled into that sweet smile.

But nothing had ever felt quite this realistic.

Nothing had ever felt like Ken was really touching him before.

He'd woken in a sweat, body hot and flushed and aching with need, completely overwhelmed by the feeling until he couldn't stop himself anymore, until he had to touch himself to make it go away.

It wasn't the last dream either.

They became a regular event, more and more pronounced, more explicit, more difficult to ignore, more difficult to pretend they were just random dreams.

When the dreams broke into his waking life, he assumed he was sick.

Daisuke would be sitting in class, and his thoughts would drift—no one _really_ expected him to pay attention to world history, right?—and then he'd be in the middle of a daydream featuring none other than Ichijouji Ken, his teammate, his partner, his best friend.

He'd always been able to control his daydreams in the past, or they would react to his thoughts and wants, but these were different.

These daydreams quickly got out of hand, and they came on so quickly he couldn't always deal with the repercussions. Shoving your hand down your pants and rubbing one out in the middle of ethics was generally frowned upon.

On the weekends, when he was actually able to see Ken, they hung out and played soccer and talked like nothing was wrong. Daisuke may have been hyper-aware of their physical touches when they sat close and he convinced Ken to play video games with him—mostly puzzle and racing games, nothing too violent, even when Daisuke desperately wanted to play first-person shooter. And if he allowed himself to notice, Ken's smile was tight and there were bags under his eyes.

Daisuke didn't allow himself to notice.

Noticing would mean it meant something. Noticing might lead him to believe he wasn't the only one dealing with these strange dreams.

During the week, he and Ken talked every night before bed. Even if they had nothing new to talk about, even if they'd already shared everything they reasonably could, Daisuke called him on the phone exactly half an hour before Ken was supposed to go to sleep, and they talked until Daisuke was so tired he could barely see straight—long after Ken's designated bedtime.

It had become so normal, so natural Daisuke wasn't sure he'd be able to fall asleep without hearing his best friend's soothing voice.

"Hey, do you remember our match on Saturday?" Daisuke rested his hand on his bare chest, fully relaxed.

"What about it?" Ken asked.

Daisuke worried his lip and allowed his thoughts to wander to the previous weekend's activities. "I dunno. I mean, I was just thinking about how good you played that day."

"Daisuke…" He could hear the embarrassment in his best friend's voice.

"You move like a swan."

For a moment, Ken didn't say anything. Then, "Why a swan?"

"Because you're so graceful! And pretty."

Ken spluttered on the other end of the line, his embarrassment expanding tenfold.

But it's not like it was a lie. Ken was the single most graceful person Daisuke had ever met. His movements were fluid and sleek, but there was a power behind every motion.

And pretty?

What an understatement. Anyone who so much as _glanced_ at Ken knew he was beautiful. It was an objective truth. But last weekend, Ken had sweated through his shirt and made the impromptu decision to tug it off near the end of their game.

And well, Daisuke had lost pretty quickly after that.

"I'm not a swan," Ken said carefully.

He released a shaky sigh and drummed his fingers over his heart, his head full of flashes of a half-naked Ken panting, slick with sweat, eyes glinting with determination. "It was an analogy," Daisuke said, breathless.

"I'm impressed you know that word." The line was supposed to be teasing, but it fell flat.

Also on deaf ears.

Because all it took was thinking about Ken, his body glistening under the sun, and just like that afternoon, Daisuke wanted to run his hands over that bare skin, across his taut abs, feel the fluttering rhythm inside his rib cage.

He flattened his hand over his heart, thumping steadily in his chest. Faster but steady all the same. Did Ken's beat this fast too? Were they still in sync?

Despite his hesitation, he trailed his hand along the dip down the middle of his abdomen. With his eyes shut, he could almost imagine he was touching soft porcelain skin, smoothing his fingers over those hard muscles, and he could almost hear Ken's panting breath, feel it on his skin, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

He _wanted_ to touch, and his body thrummed with the urge, with the need to feel.

Daisuke bit his lip when his fingers reached the waistband of his boxers, and he traced the hemline, digging a finger under the elastic then retreating and repeating.

"Ken?" he murmured, his voice low and rough. "You there?"

"Yes." The word came out as a squeak; Ken cleared his throat, but it didn't help. "I'm here."

He took a shaky breath. "I wish we could get together during the week too." And when the line remained silent, Daisuke lost his nerve and slid his hand back over his abs. "Ken?"

"I do too," he whispered through the phone.

"Ken…"

That sounded way too much like a moan.

And fuck, that didn't even make sense. He wasn't…well, he _hadn't been_ that into it.

"Sorry, Daisuke, um, I have to go."

"Oh." He forced his eyes open, forced himself to focus on his best friend's words. "Wait—"

Ken was already gone.

Daisuke threw his head back against the pillow in frustration and slapped his phone down on the bed beside him.

Where the hell had the conversation gone?

They'd been talking, and then they'd just _stopped_.

Okay, he may have gotten carried away thinking about how good Ken looked while kicking his ass. But even if that had made him lose focus, that didn't account for Ken's strange behavior. What the hell had come over him?

His hand clenched into a fist atop his chest, and he glanced down. He'd tried to ignore the ache, but the feeling was undeniable.

Another thing he couldn't properly account for—the unprecedented tent in his boxers.

Ken was definitely gorgeous, and just thinking about him sent a thrill through Daisuke's body, but normally, he had to actually touch himself to get _that_ reaction.

Tentatively, he reached down and grazed his fingers over the bulge.

Fuck.

How in the world was he this hard? How was he this turned on? And—his cock twitched vigorously, and he had to hold back a moan as his mind quickly supplied the image of slender fingers wrapping around him—how the hell was it getting worse?

Well.

There was nothing for it.

He ached with need, and he couldn't get the thought of touching Ken, of Ken touching him, out of his head.

He slipped a hand inside his boxers and wrapped it firmly around himself.

His rhythm was clumsy and his entire body trembled, but pleasure spread through him at an unprecedented speed. He couldn't breathe. His body spiraled into sensory overload. And all too quickly, he spilled all over himself, coating his cock and groin and legs and hand in his own sticky spend.

Fuck.

He hadn't made this much of a mess while masturbating since he'd first started. He hadn't even had time to grab something to catch the come.

Of course, he couldn't think of a time he'd gotten that turned on and come that quickly, well, ever.

The worst part was, he was still hard.

How was that even possible?

He determined to ignore it as he cleaned himself up, and slowly, ever so slowly, his body calmed and the arousal faded.

That wasn't the last time the daydreams became more than mere daydreams.

It had happened while talking to Ken, purely from thinking about Ken on the soccer pitch, and that was concerning in and of itself.

But well, it wasn't like Ken didn't look absolutely gorgeous while playing soccer. He looked gorgeous while studying, while failing to heat up leftovers in the toaster oven, while brushing his hair into a tiny little ponytail at the base of his neck. So of course he looked gorgeous while playing the beautiful game.

Besides, Daisuke had always thought Ken gorgeous.

God, though, thinking about him had never led to such a physical reaction. He'd never gotten so aroused he couldn't help but touch himself.

The next night, hoping to circumvent any awkwardness—and if he had to admit to himself, more than a little curious what the hell was going on with his body and in his head—Daisuke stood in the shower after washing away the soap and closed his eyes, ready to focus, determined to get it out of the way before he and Ken were talking on the phone.

He thought about Ken. Thought about how beautiful he was. Thought about his smooth skin and tender smile and the delicate way he moved. Thought about the precision he employed on the soccer pitch, when desperately studying to keep his grades at a "reasonable" level. Thought about the way determination pulled his jaw tight and narrowed his eyes. Thought about that devious little smirk and his challenging eyes when he poked and prodded and teased.

It didn't take much for him to get hard.

He stood under the showerhead, let the hot water pound against his head and back and trace down his naked body, and took hold of himself. He trailed his hand down his chest, from his heart—where, after all these years, he still felt most connected to his Jogress partner—to his pulsing arousal, thrumming in sync, and finally touched himself.

The reaction was immediate and irresistible.

With his eyes shut, blocking out the real world, he could feel Ken's hand join his, pumping in perfect time, moving in complete sync. Delicate fingers ghosted over his chest, his abs, his hips, then back up to trail over his neck to his jaw, and fuck, he was so hard it hurt, so hard he was imagining Ken touching him, eager and wanting.

Like the night before, he came so fast, but he was still hard, still hard enough he ached.

Unlike before, he kept going, pushed through the normal few minutes where he couldn't think, couldn't focus, couldn't do anything, and let the illusory feel of Ken's fingers lead him to another climax.

It might have just been his imagination running rampant, but fuck, it made a difference.

When he finally came down, the water was cold, and he quickly rinsed away the remnants, turned off the water, and jumped in the hot bath to warm up again.

Nearly an hour later, he lay on his bed, mostly dry, wearing boxers and a loose T-shirt, and dialed Ken for their nightly phone call.

Ken sounded pretty out of it when he answered. He kept getting distracted, hesitated before speaking, and half the time, he could barely form complete sentences.

Daisuke bit his lip. "You all right? We can get off of here if you're tired."

Ken paused. "No, no. Don't worry. I mean, I'm all right."

"You sound pretty worn out. Was soccer club that bad?"

"Uh, no. It was fine." He hesitated, and when he spoke again, his voice cracked. "I'm just…exhausted, you know? You're right—I probably shouldn't talk to you for too long tonight."

Daisuke frowned.

He'd wanted tonight to be normal again. That's exactly why he'd gotten the inconvenient bodily functions out of the way.

But here Ken was, ruining his plans and acting downright _weird_.

Why the hell was Ken so weird?

"Well, if that's what you think is best," he practically growled into the phone, frustration dipping his voice low.

Ken whimpered.

Wait.

What?

Daisuke bit his lip as a familiar tingling spread through his body, straight from his groin.

Fuck, how was he getting hard again?

Sure, Ken whimpering was hot, but that couldn't possibly be enough to get a rise out of his overworked body.

He swallowed, but his voice sounded thick and rough when he spoke. "Ken? You okay?"

Another whimper, this one decidedly quieter. "Yes," he managed to say, drawing out the word in a way that made it sound absolutely lewd.

His fingers twitched, and he clenched his fist to stop himself from moving. "Ken," he said again, desperate for his name to fall from his lips. "Ken, Ken, Ken…"

"Daisuke?"

Fuck.

When Ken practically moaned his name, how was he supposed to resist?

His hand twitched again before he gave in and slowly, gently palmed himself through his boxers. He struggled to keep his breathing steady as his hand moved carefully, desperate not to draw attention to the action. This really wasn't—

On the other end of the line, Ken moaned, long and slow and positively sinful.

Daisuke dropped the phone.

He fumbled around, tried to grab it a couple times before managing to press the device to his ear again.

Ken had hung up.

Shit.

Daisuke chucked the phone onto the mattress and glared down at the traitorous bulge under his boxers. Making things awkward, fucking up his relationship with his best friend, was exactly what he'd wanted to prevent.

He dropped his head onto the pillow and groaned, hands clenched at his sides.

But the moment delicate fingers danced along his skin, tracing down, down, down, until they gripped him through the boxers, he knew it wasn't in his head. It couldn't have been. It felt too present, too real.

He couldn't have been _that_ crazy.

And although Ken had never touched him _there_ , he knew the feel of Ken's fingers. He knew the soft fingertips, the hesitant way they whispered over his skin, and when he'd committed, the firmness, the power, the eagerness of his touch. When Ken committed, he was all strength and determination and confidence, and Daisuke was constantly in awe of him, of his ability.

He was even more in awe now as those delicate fingers took hold of him firmly and began a slow torturous motion, caressing him, pumping him.

A soft moan escaped his lips, and he gave in to the feeling, to the touch, to the desperation, and allowed his hand to join the fray.

After, when he was cleaning up, Daisuke sighed.

That couldn't have been in his head. Ken touching him couldn't have been make believe. He'd never been so sure of something, of _feeling_ something, as he had with those fingers wrapped around his arousal. He'd never been so sure of _anything_.

Well, except maybe that his friendship with Ken was beyond tenuous.

Fuck.

After _that_ , it was probably ruined completely.

But the next day was Saturday, and after classes released, he took the train to Tamachi Station and walked to the Ichijouji family's apartment. Like he did every other weekend.

Mrs. Ichijouji opened the door for him, smiling like always, and offered him a tray of snacks to take to Ken's room.

And when the door clicked shut behind him, Ken didn't say a word. He was curled up on his loft bed, hiding his face in a book, his entire body tense and tight. He didn't even look at him in greeting.

"Hey," Daisuke said quietly, and he dropped his overnight bag on the floor by the door. "Your mom gave us snacks."

Ken hummed in response, still not looking up.

With a sigh, he set the tray of food on the small table. Then locked the door.

They needed to talk.

Daisuke didn't wait for Ken to speak before climbing up the ladder—he would've been waiting a long time for that anyway—and he settled at the foot of the bed, waiting.

Ken's eyes kept scanning the page.

"So…"

"Hmm."

Daisuke cleared his throat. "Ken, I think there's something we should talk about."

"Oh?"

"We need to talk about last night. On the phone." He bit his lip. "And what happened _after_."

Ken froze. "What happened after?" he asked in a small voice.

"Did you…?" He swallowed, gathering the courage. "I mean, you _did_. You definitely did. Uh, touch yourself." His fingers tapped an anxious beat on his knee. "Because you also touched _me_."

Red heat spread across Ken's cheeks, no matter how much he tried to hide it. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

Daisuke shifted forward, covering half the distance between them, even as Ken shrank away. "Have you…have you been having _dreams_?" he asked, voice dropping to a quiet rumble. "Because I—"

"Daisuke," Ken tried, desperation lacing his voice.

"I've had dreams," he said, determination forcing him forward. "About you. And Me. And _us_. Doing. _Things_."

Ken looked like he was in pain, physical pain. "Daisuke, please."

Daisuke pushed forward, closing the distance between them, and pulled the book from his best friend's hands. "You've felt it too, haven't you?"

Blue-violet eyes fell to the small bit of sheets between them. "I have," he whispered. "When I think about you…"

"I can feel it," Daisuke supplied, and he reached forward to take Ken's hand in his. "I can feel your hands, your touch." He threaded their fingers together and stared at the link. "I can feel our connection."

"Your heartbeat," Ken added, glancing up through his lashes, and he allowed himself to be held. "I can feel it too."

He reached out his free hand to cup Ken's flushed cheek. "Ken?"

Finally, his best friend met his eyes, a questioning look in their hypnotizing depths.

"Can I kiss you?"

A small whimper fell from Ken's pink lips, but he nodded.

Finally, Daisuke swooped in to press their lips together, to lick inside his mouth, to taste him, to kiss him like he'd wanted to kiss him for months, for years, from the moment they'd first touched hearts and bonded souls.

Ken moaned into his mouth and pushed forward, reveling in the affection and eagerly returning it.

And when Ken ran his fingers over his own chest, Daisuke could feel those fingertips caressing him instead, and he instantly knew what he wanted.

"Ken," he said, pulling back, eyes blown wide. "I want to touch you."

Mesmerizing blue-violet eyes, deep and dilated and absolutely beautiful, stared back at him.

"Please?"

Ken was panting. "You mean…?"

Daisuke nodded. "But I…I want to see you."

They separated slowly, and he watched as Ken began to undo the button-up top he was still wearing after school. Daisuke never understood why he felt so comfortable in his uniform, but he definitely wasn't going to complain as the smooth, pale skin was slowly revealed. He wanted to touch everything, everywhere. Wanted to kiss him, taste him, caress him. Wanted to cover him in his come.

Ken slid the shirt off his shoulders and tossed it down to the floor below. Then, his hands found the buttons of his tight black uniform slacks, and he leaned back against the pillow to push them over his sharp hips, down his lean legs, until they caught at his ankles in his hurry. Daisuke was more than happy to help tug them off the rest of the way, pressing kisses to his ankles and his bare feet as he loosened the fabric, drawing quiet giggles from those delicious lips. The slacks soon joined the shirt on the floor.

Which left Ken in nothing but his underwear—and sporting a rather distinct bulge.

To be fair, Daisuke was already painfully hard.

Ken's fingers caught on the hem of his underwear, and he hesitated, eyes downcast. "Should I…? Can I?"

Daisuke scooted closer. "You can leave them on."

Those lovely eyes lifted to meet his. "Will you kiss me?"

Gladly.

Daisuke lay on his side next to him and pulled him into a kiss. Ken's slender fingers threaded through his hair, grazed his scalp, and Daisuke slid his hand under his own shirt, tracing slow circles over the skin underneath, sending a shiver down his own spine.

But Ken's reaction had him reeling. 

He pulled away from the kiss and threw his head back, eyes clamped shut, gasping for breath as he felt Daisuke's fingertips on his chest, on his skin. And when Daisuke pinched a nipple, eager and maybe a little too rough, Ken let out a long, sultry moan that practically made him come right then and there.

He pinched again, twisting and tweaking, tugging far harder than he typically preferred, but Ken writhed with pleasure, rocking his glorious body, sweat glistening on his perfect skin.

One of his hands was still in Daisuke's hair, yanking and scratching desperately, but the other trembled as it moved toward his underwear.

Daisuke caught his wrist before he could make contact. "No."

Ken looked close to tears.

"You don't get to touch right now." He brought the hand up to his cheek and nuzzled into Ken's soft fingers. "Stay here with me."

With a short nod, Ken pushed forward to press another kiss to his mouth. Daisuke opened up for him, let him delve into his mouth and taste him, and he pinched his nipple again, drawing an eager moan from Ken's mouth.

But when Daisuke traced his hand downward, over his abs, to his waistline, Ken kissed him more fervently, sending a fever of heat through his body.

He tore open his shorts, shoved his hand under the hem of his boxers, and took hold of himself. Ken immediately broke away, gasping, and Daisuke buried his face in his sweet-smelling hair and pressed kisses to his cheek, his temple, his earlobe as Ken clung to him.

Ken was gasping, panting, unable to even open his eyes. His hair, normally so silky and neat and perfect, was matted against the pillow, sticking to his sweaty forehead, and his lips were parted, pink and swollen from their kisses. His chest was heaving, shining with sweat, and he writhed, rocking his hips, toes curling.

"Fuck," Daisuke murmured into his soft hair.

Ken was always beautiful, but like this, he was absolutely stunning. He was a mess, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes, and dear god, it looked damn good on him.

"You're beautiful." He pressed a kiss to his temple, then one to his forehead. "Gorgeous." Another. "Stunning." And another. "Absolutely amazing."

Slender fingers twisted in his hair, but he didn't mind the pain. Not when Ken's entire body was trembling with pleasure from Daisuke's touch.

From Daisuke touching himself.

"Fuck, you're so sexy."

Ken barely managed to open his eyes, tears clinging to his luscious lashes, and licked his lips. "You're…I'm…" He took a quivering breath. "I'm going to…"

He pumped himself harder, in time with the erratic beat inside his chest, savoring the way Ken quivered at the pressure. When Ken at last came undone, he was clinging to him, whimpering Daisuke's name over and over, tears streaming down his cheeks and wetting his hair.

Daisuke followed soon after.

They lay for a few minutes, entwined in each other's arms, catching their breath. Daisuke held him close, soaking up the feel of Ken's bare skin as he came down.

Now that the moment was over, Daisuke bit his lip.

They hadn't exactly thought this through, had they? They'd moved from awkward conversation to exploring this strange bond. They hadn't actually figured anything out.

"Hey, Ken?"

Ken's watery eyes found his, and he shifted closer and rested his hand over Daisuke's heart. "Hmm?"

His heart beat faster at the touch. "What does this mean?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Ken pushed up on his elbows with a quivering breath, determinedly looking him in the eye. "What do you want it to mean?" He spread his fingers over Daisuke's rumpled shirt and wetted his lips.

Daisuke swallowed. He could feel the thump of Ken's heart through his palm. "I…?"

"What do you want?"

With a hesitant hand, he reached out and placed his hand over Ken's heart in return. "I want you," he said, eyes downcast. "In whatever way you'll let me have you."

Ken covered his mouth, and Daisuke melted into the kiss, melted into the embrace, the affection, the assurance that this was more than physical touch, more than tonight.

When he pulled away a moment later, Ken sighed and tapped his fingers on Daisuke's chest. "Don't you feel it? In here?"

"Huh?"

A soft smile spread across his lips. "I want you too. In every way."

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, you can [submit anonymous prompts to the kinkmeme here](https://daiken-kink-meme.dreamwidth.org/791.html)!


End file.
